


Call Me

by ariviand



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Aka the relationship you really wanted to read about, Behind the Scenes, Canon Compliant, F/M, M/M, Re-post from ff.net, the cameo love story that was lost between the pages of Mortal Instruments
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-10-11
Packaged: 2018-08-20 12:25:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 14
Words: 17,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8248907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariviand/pseuds/ariviand
Summary: A detailing of many 'missing scenes' between Alec and Magnus, starting with the first time they meet in Ch. 12 of "City of Bones" and ending with the last chapter of "City of Glass"; a repost of my original one-shot-turned ficzilla on FF.net.





	1. Confrontation

**Author's Note:**

> Old story, with new edits as I get the chance. I hope you enjoy! Dedicated to my rekindled love of the series, thanks to a days' long power outage where books by candle light stayed off boredom and kept me going. 
> 
> Originally published 8/31/09, initially edited by my good friend and fellow Malec fan, Miyabita 1/31/10.

 

_Jace nodded. "Don't want to overstay our welcome."_

_"What welcome?" Magnus asked. "I'd say it was a pleasure to meet you, but it wasn't. Not that you aren't all fairly charming, and as for you—" He dropped a glittery wink at Alec, who looked astounded. "Call me?"_

(from City of Bones, paperback edition, pg. 243 by Cassandra Clare).

 

* * *

 

Alec lifted his eyes to the metal square, eyelids fluttering. It was a nervous twitch, like the impassible lump lodged in his throat. Or the knot in his stomach.

**BANE.**

He'd already worked through a stern pep talk on the way over. He was going to confront the warlock, accuse him of singling him out at the party. He would show Magnus Bane that if this was just some kind of stunt to berate him, poke fun of the "weak link" in front of the others - not to mention a roomful of vampires and fae - he wasn't going to take it. After all, he'd been nothing but nice to the guy, even genuinely sympathetic. During the seemingly flippant glimpse into his childhood? A story he obviously hadn't meant to tell the band of shadowhunters, and one he dismissed with a casual flick of his fingers almost as soon as he'd delivered it, but it resonated with Alec.

What an idiot he had been, to show empathy.

And then, to make matters worse, the warlock's last words as they went to leave --

 _Jace_ wouldn't have stammered after Magnus. He would have laughed it off or snapped back with some self-assured, sarcastic comment like "you wish".

What if the warlock really was expecting his call?

 _Well, I've got news for you, Downworlder,_ Alec repeated in his head, trying to regroup and get back to the mental monologue. _I've got no intention of wasting minutes on you._

But even the thought made his stomach twist. No, he couldn't say that. If he was being honest, he didn't even really like thinking it…

He lowered his eyes shyly from the nameplate - unnerved just looking at it - while he fortified himself.

What would be the point in trying to embarrass him? Just for the fun of it? Just to make him blush? Was Magnus Bane the kind of person that enjoyed putting down other people? Maybe it was a last-minute jibe to get back at them for crashing his party and monopolizing his precious time. He was the High Warlock of Brooklyn, after all.

On the other hand, he was hosting a party in honor of his cat. He wasn't holding shop inside his flat.

Nodding to himself, he lifted his head again and pressed the buzzer. He waited a long minute, heartbeat drumming in his ears, his own breathing too loud. _This is madness._

Alec crossed his arms over his chest, lips thinning out. No answer. He felt minutely braver when the silence stretched out and his heartbeat slowed down, and he was in the process of calling it off, deciding it really wasn't worth his time anyway. It wasn't like their paths were bound to cross anytime soon. And it was awfully late—

"COME HELL OR HIGH WATER, THIS BETTER BE IMPORTANT!"

Alec stumbled backward at the loud, staticy voice that responded. It seemed like the speaker vibrated with the force of the warlock's growl.

When Alec was too stunned – and too nervous – to respond, Magnus continued.

"WELL?" he barked, obviously waiting for some explanation. Probably expecting an emergency of epic proportions to be woken, again, at this unholy hour.

"I...I'm sorry…" Alec began, hands balling into fists inside the pockets of his coat, trying to keep them from trembling from the strong mixture of adrenaline and anticipation.

"Never mind that," the warlock replied shortly, trying to keep calm. He sighed wearily. "Come up or go away. But be quick about it," he snapped and buzzed him in.

Alec's nerves were on edge as he took to the rickety stairwell again, careful to keep his hands inside the confines of his pockets, remembering the sticky green goo that Clary had encountered earlier. Besides, he didn't really trust the railing.

His boots left heavy, clunking sounds as he rose. By the time he reached the second floor landing, the door was open. He froze, not sure if it was ok to enter on his own. He looked down at his feet, trying to stay calm.

 _Breathe. Focus. You're not walking into battle._ Not that he wasn't experiencing the same fight or flight response. Knock or walk?

"You," a low voice resounded from the entry. Alec glanced up again, startled. Magnus leaned against the open door, his hair limp on one side, and mussed on the other (as if he'd been sleeping on his side). His face was flushed, also indicative of sleep, and completely devoid of makeup. Alec was speechless. And staring.

"I'm sorry…" Alec felt compelled to apologize again, though kicking himself. This was not how he'd planned it. He was going to make the warlock apologize for taunting him. He was going to demand an explanation. He-

Magnus cocked his head to one side, studying him. Then he reached out and seemed to brush some invisible piece of lint from the shoulder of Alec's jacket. The action made Alec start and then flush in embarrassment. The warlock's lip twitched, realizing how jumpy he was. Alec was mortified.

"Did you come here alone?" he asked, eyes glancing behind where he stood as if to pick out someone hiding in the shadow of the stairs.

"Yes," Alec answered, confused. Magnus seemed to consider this information, running a quick hand back through his hair, unsettling the limp side and pushing it back behind his ear. He was wearing a simple silver hoop through the lobe. Everything about his bedtime look was very simple. Unassuming. Almost… vulnerable.

If a tall, imposing warlock with piercing cat-eyes could look vulnerable.

The edge of his mouth kicked up and Alec quickly rethought it, swallowing. Magnus laughed, a rich, throaty sound. It wasn't the laugh he reserved for public appearances, the mocking, almost disdainful one he'd directed at them before, at times laced with irritability and exasperation.

It sounded more intimate. And genuine.

"Come in, then." He gestured with his hand as he turned away from the Shadowhunter, heading back inside his apartment. The floorboards barely creaked with the movement.

Alec tentatively crossed the threshold, looking around at the now-dark interior, slowly closing the front door behind him.

There was a rustle of silk. Magnus drew on what looked like a robe, shrugging into the sleeves. It was colorful and shiny. He could see that even in the darkness. Magnus's arms were bent in front of him, and Alec realized he was tying a belt. Then he fussed with his hair, twisting it into a careful knot before turning around again, looking down at Alec from his lofty height.

"What can I do for you?" he droned, suddenly serious.

"I…well, I just wanted to say…" Alec shook his head, frustrated. He blushed, self-conscious and jerked his head to the side, fingers tugging on the lining inside his jacket pocket, looking for some distraction for his restless fingers. "Why me?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"Why did you single me out like that?"

When there wasn't an answer, Alec tentatively looked up from his lashes to find the warlock still staring down at him, brows raised. He looked like he was going to smile but thought the better of it.

"Why do you think?"

Alec could feel a muscle jerk in his cheek and he removed his hand from his pocket, rubbing the opposite arm instead, self-conscious.

"I don't know," he answered, his voice small and shaky.

"Really? I thought I made myself clear. What part didn't you understand?" Magnus paused, brows lifting again for a second. " 'Call' or 'me'?"

"Why did you ask me?"

"You have a phone, don't you?"

"Of course, I do. But why—"

"You are naïve, aren't you? Have you never been cracked on before?" He seemed more curious then mocking, so Alec merely frowned in confusion.

"Cracked on?"

"Hit on. Asked out. No one ever make a pass at you?"

Alec shook his head, grimacing.

"I can't believe it."

"If you're just going to insult me again—" Alec growled, hands fisting.

"Again? It was a compliment. When I asked you to call me, that's exactly what I meant. That's all I meant. You know, pick up your cell, dial my number. Maybe I should have remembered to write it down for you on a scented sticky note, but I'm assuming you have a phone book at the Institute. Or maybe a black book reserved for Downworlders of interest? I am listed."

"We have the number," Alec muttered, brow furrowed.

"Well, I was hoping you would call, but I didn't put any real stock in it. Not with the way you looked at me when I said it." He winked, rewarded by a similar expression on the Shadowhunter's face.

"I am surprised you decided to stop by instead. You could have called," Magnus pointed out, gently teasing.

"I didn't think about it," Alec confessed, sounding stupid.

"I'm honored," Magnus replied. Alec wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic, but his eyes glanced back over his shoulder to gauge the distance it would take him to reach the door. Just a comforting side note, and always important in a situation - to know your escape route, if it came to that. Incidentally, the warlock started coming forward, walking toward him in slow, measured steps as if he knew Alec was pondering Plan B.

"Is that all?"

"What…?"

"Is that what you wanted to say to me?"

Alec nodded slightly. That was the gist of it, even if it came out all wrong. Sighing, Magnus lifted his hands again, ignoring the boy's slight flinch before his long fingers came to rest on his shoulders.

"Then let me say this. I'm sorry if I 'insulted' you. I didn't mean to embarrass you in front of your friends. Clearly, I was exaggerating when I said they were charming." He rolled his eyes. "But you…you are bewitching."

"Bewitching," Alec whispered, trying not to blush. It sounded funny coming from a warlock. Magnus smiled.

"Beautiful," he clarified, looking into his pale eyes.

Alec swallowed on the gathering saliva in his throat, lips dry. Magnus seemed to gauge his reaction for a moment, and added, "Would you prefer handsome? I didn't mean anything effeminate by it. Not that I would take offense."

Alec tilted his head back, finally letting himself look at Magnus. Really look at his face in the semi-darkness. Without the glitter and the charcoal and the unnatural lip tint, he could focus on his facial features. Beneath the flare, he could see the soft curve of his cheeks, realized just how long Magnus's dark lashes were, sweeping down now as he looked at him, half-lidded. His mouth was softer when his face was relaxed, and his distracting, white teeth were just barely hinted of between his parted lips as he looked down at Alec. What's more, he didn't have any scars on his face or his neck. But then, why would he? He didn't bear Marks. Or battle wounds.

Magnus was beautiful, Alec decided. But he couldn't possibly swallow past the lump and tell him that. He didn't realize his eyes were stroking as they stared - and that the warlock thoroughly enjoyed his open perusal - until Magnus gently squeezed his shoulders and smiled.

"I adore your eyes. That's the first thing I noticed about you," he whispered. Slowly, giving him time to voice his discomfort, Magnus lifted his hand to pass the pad of his thumb beneath his lower eyelid. The soft touch made Alec shiver and twitch. It tickled.

"Your eyes are so-"

"Creepy?" Magnus filled in, his cat-like pupils slightly enlarged, presumably to see better in the darkness.

"I was going to say...interesting," Alec admitted, his glance flickering between his strange eyes. His face was starting to warm. It dawned on him just how close they were standing, the silk sleeve of Magnus's kimono making a soft, scraping sound as he moved his arm, caressing thumb drawing back to trace the angle of Alec's cheekbone and jaw.

"I'll take it," Magnus replied, his glance straying to the boy's mouth. "You're so much more stunning than that arrogant ass you're running with."

"Jace," he corrected, shoulders tensing in objection to the description.

"He's very full of himself."

"He just doesn't care what people think. And what point is there in being a Shadowhunter with a soft side? Self-doubt could get you killed, when it counts. And there's nothing wrong with feeling comfortable in your own skin," Alec replied, not noticing that Magnus's eyes had widened slightly. "Or being confidant in your own ability. He's a strong fighter, and he doesn't try to pretend he's something he's not just for the sake of making people around him feel more comfortable." He took a deep breath after this sudden tirade, and then flushed at the intensity with which the warlock was watching him.

"But you're not like him," Magnus replied in a soft voice, as if trying to atone for setting him off and obviously touching upon a tender subject.

"Because I'm gay?" Alec spat, still heated. In his anger, he didn't feel so self-conscious saying it aloud.

"No. I was going to say that the picture you just painted of him, the pedestal you put him on, I don't think you're anything like that."

"How would you know?" he choked, not sure if he should be offended or flattered.

Magnus lifted his other hand, framing his face tenderly. Alec tensed up, although the brush of silk against his throat was kind of nice.

"I think you care very much what people think. It makes you doubt yourself. And I can see you're not comfortable in your own skin. I don't know what kind of fighter you are, but if his arrogance stems from thinking he's the toughest boy in black, then I think you could benefit from being second best." His voice was pleasant, comforting, and Alec slowly closed his eyes as if it were meant to happen. The warmth spread, and he felt the compulsion to remove his jacket. It was stifling inside the leather.

"But you don't have to pretend around me, Alec. You don't have anything to fear from what you say or do. You're more than welcome to come to me whenever you have need." He seemed to drag out the last word, wrapping his voice around it. The implication that this wasn't just a friendly invitation made Alec swallow, and this time he managed to sigh, some of the pressure easing from his stomach.

 

 


	2. Contact

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still working from gaps left in "City of Bones" by Cassandra Clare. No claim on the characters, or the setting or any of that. Can only take credit for the daydreaming.
> 
> Thank you for reading.

"Alec."

He opened his eyes slowly, blinking to clear his vision in the darkness. Magnus's face shimmered as it came into focus, even without the glitter. Was it because of the magic?

He looked pale without any lighting, although Alec distinctly remembered the strange caramel-color of his skin. He'd been watching the warlock longer and closer than he'd like to admit. It had alot to do with why he'd been so quiet when they met. It wasn't just brooding, standoffish introversion, or even falling into quiet ranks behind his more boisterous companions. 

He had been fascinated by the warlock, fascinated by each and every shining detail, like the way Magnus's lower lip curved now, wet and glistening, without a hint of gloss.

Alec tried to blink once more past his own distraction, forcing it away like a glamor.

"Let me see your phone," the warlock requested. Alec gave him a dubious look. Seriously? _Why_?

Magnus waited patiently, lifting his hand, palm up, for the cell.

Alec slowly reached into his jacket and removed the small phone, flipping it open first – checking the screen. No new calls, no messages. He handed it over to Magnus guardedly, as if he was turning a weapon over to the enemy.

Magnus chuckled, turning it around so he could see it. His other hand reluctantly left Alec, the shadowhunter exhaling a breath and trying to relax. But he was too far from a wall or a door to lean on, so he had to settle for an awkward hunch, hands half-shoved in his jeans pocket.

Magnus was pressing buttons quickly, perfectly at ease with a mobile. He smiled to himself as he snapped the phone closed again, handing it back.

"Thanks," Alec muttered, not sure if he should ask.

"I put my number in your contacts list. And it's number 1 on your speed-dial."

"Oh," Alec replied lamely, face heating up. "Do you want my number?" he asked, eyes flicking back up.

Magnus lifted his right hand, pointer swirling in the air. Just as he done with his name before, the ten digits of Alec's phone number appeared in a bright gold flourish, reading the right way from where Alec stood.

"How did you know?" he asked suspiciously, uncomfortable again.

Magnus laughed, waving his hand, erasing the image. "Settings menu on your phone. Easy."

"Oh."

"And I've got a remarkable memory. Better than an address book." Magnus paused, studying Alec's face. "Of course, I could conjure up a pen if you still want to go through the motions."

"No. I mean, I believe you."

"That's generous of you. Taking the word of a downworlder."

Alec felt guilty hearing it. Magnus didn't sound as mocking as he could have, pointing out the general prejudice.

It was different, spouting off in his own mind when he thought Magnus was just toying with him. He used it like a curse, just to be mean. But now…he didn't want the warlock to believe that he really thought like that. Correction, that Alec thought that way of _him._ Even if he had been guarded in front of the host of the party, the man that had signed Clary's mind and shocked the hell out of Jace, and made a vampire choke on his own threats…it was different now, seeing _this_ Magnus. He didn't just look different; he sounded different. He _was_ different.

"Can I trust you?" Alec asked in a whisper, leaning in slightly. There was hope in the plea – making it apparent to the warlock that he desperately wanted to.

Magnus hesitated, not because he wasn't sure of the answer. But he wanted to make sure that his expression reflected nothing but sincerity. And seriousness. And that took a few seconds to compose.

"Yes."

A simple word sent relief shimmering through him. Alec didn't question his easy acceptance. Instead, he found himself smiling softly before shifting, his right hip facing the door.

"I should probably be getting back," he muttered to himself.

"So soon?"

"Well, it's really late."

"Mhm. That didn't occur to you when you were buzzing me?"

Alec tried not to blush, shrugging one shoulder. "I wasn't thinking."

"I'm not complaining," Magnus clarified, curling his fingers beneath Alec's chin, thumb stroking the fine hair there. "Are you going to call me?"

Alec bit his lip, but managed to nod.

"I've got unlimited texting too," Magnus added with a grin.

"Lucky you," the shadowhunter retorted, unsure if that luxury came with his seemingly limitless power, well-paid position, or lack of parental control. Magnus threw his head back and laughed, then his mouth was raining quick, hot kisses across Alec's cheek, his breath still quivering with laughter. Alec was stunned, eyelids fluttering.

"So cute," he purred, then released him. Just like that.

"Call me," Magnus repeated, more a command this time.

Alec grinned sheepishly, and all but fell into the closed door. _Smack._ The door rattled. Magnus chuckled, reaching around him. The silk sleeve brushed his chest and Alec started again. It was getting ridiculous at this point, jolting like he'd been shocked by static charge every time Magnus happened to touch him. It's not like he hadn't been touched before, even by another male. 

Even just hours ago, in highly personal areas too. But that was then, and this was now, an accidental brush of silk affecting him ten times stronger than a cheeky pinch.

"Promise?"

Alec nodded distractedly, staring at the wood grains in the door, his heartbeat vibrating inside his ears, blotting out every other sound.

"What was that?"

"I swear by the Angel."

"So serious," Magnus replied, voice muffled. Alec closed his eyes when he realized that the warlock's mouth was in his hair, nuzzling it with his cheek.

"Good night, Alec," he breathed, his long-fingered hand turning the doorknob with a soft click.

"Good night…Magnus," Alec replied, glancing over his shoulder. It seemed the polite thing to do before leaving. But the warlock was so _close_ , bent over so that his face was just the right level with his, and then his warm kiss came again. This time on his mouth, sucking the breath from him when he tried to exhale. It would have been a gasp, or maybe a sigh.

There was a low hum. Did he do that?

The sounds their mouths made…Alec didn't realize how…how… _hot_ it would _sound_ to kiss someone else, not that he was drawing from extensive experience, not having kissed anyone that wasn't family, and he'd never kissed any of them like _this_. Just that quick little peck you'd give your mother, or maybe a relative when they asked for it, rattling off how much you'd grown and how handsome you looked. This kiss...this kiss was in another zipcode. 'Kiss' didn't even seem to be a powerful enough word for it. It was more like a spell. He was trapped in it, not trusting his own actions.

"Beautiful," Magnus sighed. Alec breathed harshly against him once the kiss had broken off, his eyes clenched shut.

Magnus made use of his closed eyes, fingertips gently passing over his eyelids, tracing the pale veins and tickling the sensitive skin, brushing across his lashes. Alec twitched again, then turned his cheek to one side when Magnus cupped it, lavishing another brief string of kisses along the opposite cheek. He felt so helpless to his touch. It was like dreaming, the helplessness he felt when he was being chased by subconscious monsters. Unlike the real thing, in dreams he couldn't run fast enough. Or find the energy to scream. His cooperation hadn't quite registered as his own desire.

He wasn't just compelled to participate. No one was forcing him to do anything.

He _wanted_ Magnus to touch him. To kiss him again-

There was movement on the stairs below.

"You'd better go," Magnus reminded him. Shaken, but nodding mechanically, Alec turned and half-fell through the open doorway, almost leaning against the railing for balance. But he retracted the hand, remembering the slime.

He shouldered past a violet-skinned figure in the entryway, not bothering to look up. He shoved open the door to the building. By the time Alec had reached the street, he was almost jogging. His 'perfect' balance had returned to him.

He was running and laughing to himself, giddy and embarrassed and light-headed. A few blocks later he felt the vibration inside his jacket pocket.

Stopping beneath a street lamp, he removed his cell. The vibration had stopped. It was just a text message. Fingers still shaking – it must be the adrenaline, he flipped open the screen.

It was from "Magnus". He was kind of surprised that he hadn't used a more extravagant nickname. Like "Magnus the Magnificent." Or "High Warlock of Brooklyn." Or something...dirty. But this was better.

_Magnus_. He envisioned the warlock as he'd seen him last in the doorway, hair falling out of the twist and into his eyes, smile soft. Looking almost regretful that he was leaving.

_Sweet dreams_.

Alec ran his finger over the bright letters until the screen timed out and dimmed. Smiling to himself, he continued walking with his cell phone open - probably looking like an idiot. He didn't care.


	3. Conflict

He swallowed hard. "You almost got Jace killed."

" _I_ almost-What are you _talking_ about?"

"Running off after your friends like that-do you know how much danger you put him in? Do you know-"

"Him? You mean Jace?" Clary cut him off in midsentence. "For your information the whole thing was his idea. _He_ asked Magnus where the lair was. He went to the churhch to get weapons. If I hadn't come with him, he would have gone anyway."

"You don't understand," Alec said. "You don't know him. I know him. He thinks he has to save the world, he'd be glad to kill himself trying. Sometimes I think he even wants to die, but that doesn't mean you should encourage him to do it."

"I don't get it," she said. "Jace is a Nephilim. This is what you do, you rescue people, you kill demons, you put yourselves in danger. How was last night any different?"

Alec's control shattered. "Because he _left me behind!_ " he shouted. "Normally I'd be with him, covering him, watching his back, keeping him safe. But you-you're dead weight, a _mundane_." He spit the word out as if it were an obscenity.

(from City of Bones by Cassandra Clare, paperback edition, pg. 299)

 

* * *

_Sweet dreams._

Alec jerked the cell phone shut again, grimacing after re-reading the last (and only) text he'd received from Magnus. At the time, he thought it was nice. Sweet. He was even happy about receiving it, like an idiot.

He was stupid to trust the warlock. To even think—

He shook his head in irritation, throwing an arm over his face, fisting the cell in his left hand. The plastic case make a crackling sound and he eased up before breaking it.

Why didn't he _tell_ him that Jace and Clary had come back? That Simon was missing? That he'd pointed them in the direction of a trap. That's what it was, wasn't it?

Did Magnus just happen to forget that part? Was he playing Alec for stupid? No way it just _slipped_ his mind, that Alec might be at the least interested in what happened to Jace. Or concerned. He should have been there! Or better yet, he could have prevented the whole mess from going down (or tried to, at least). All this over a mundane-turned-rat. It was so irresponsible, reckless! So…Jace.

And it was all Clary's fault!

No, he corrected. It was the warlock's fault too. If he hadn't had the stupid party, crawling with vampires…if he hadn't been serving up those blue drinks and turned Simon into a rat. If he hadn't answered the door and obligingly told Jace where to find the hotel.

He was trying to look for a reason to let it go, but the list was too compelling. Magnus had a very big part in what happened that night, and instead of letting on that _anything_ was wrong, he'd stood there teasing him, and talking to him in that soft, compelling voice. And kissing him…

Alec groaned, head-butting the pillow beneath him hard enough to displace the air with a hiss, an innocent outlet for his bottled up aggression.

Damn him. Lying, God-forsaken downworlder.

He sat up sharply in bed, raking a rough hand back through his hair before flipping his phone back open.

His finger lingered over the 1. If he held the button down for a few seconds, it'd go straight to Magnus's phone. No, he didn't want to hear that voice. He wasn't falling for _that_ again.

Instead, he opened a new text window and went with the first thought to came to mind.

"I h4te you."

Growling, Alec deleted the message up to the typo, trying to fix it with shaking fingers.

"I hate you."

He stared at the digital, white letters for a second, then backspaced through the whole message, erasing it. So much for scoring maturity points.

The icon blinked, waiting, judging him.

"Liar."

He erased that one too, forehead creased. Agitated, he set the phone down long enough to strip off his ratty sweater, then tried again.

Straight to the point was probably the best way. Let him know exactly what he was thinking, without coming over like a hurt dog.

"Why didn't you tell me Jace came back?" He omitted any mention of Clary. There was no point. Magnus had been there, after all – and it wasn't of any relevance to Alec.

Huffing, he looked over at the alarm clock and back to the phone, waiting impatiently for the warlock to respond.

Maybe he'd gone back to sleep. Maybe he was busy with that girl with the odd purple tint to her skin. Maybe she was more than a client…

No, that wasn't right. Maybe he was a lying bastard, but there was no denying that Magnus Bane was gay. Very, very gay. Like radiating rainbows gay.

Alec cringed.

The phone buzzed in his hand.

"Who is this?" came the reply. Come on, now! Didn't he say he had the best memory? He wrote his number in the air! There was no point playing stupid.

"How ha7d would it h2ve been?" He didn't bother to correct the typos, hands still shaking. He hit send, then opened a new text window, continuing in the same vein.

"Y8u should have tol3 me!"

Another minute passed, and he was in the process of opening another text when the phone vibrated again.

"I'm sorry, Alec. You're right. I should have told you."

He sucked in a breath, not expecting Magnus to admit to it. Much less apologize. He wasn't ready to forgive him.

"Why didn't you?" he persisted, unwilling to just…let it go.

"It's late," Magnus reasoned. Then a few seconds later, a new message. "I didn't want to worry you. Jace is a big boy."

Then, "If he was hurt, you would have said so. Assume he turned out just fine? Bruised ego?"

Alec growled, about to type 'that's not the point!' But Magnus was still replying.

"I'm sorry, Alec. You came too late." And then: "I was trying to protect you."

"You were trying to _stop me_ ," Alec replied, seeing it differently.

"I was," Magnus conceded. "What would you have done? Run after them and sacrificed yourself to the vampires in exchange for Jace?

"Tempting, I'm sure, but it wouldn't have helped."

Alec cursed under his breath, face stained with angry color. His cheeks were a splotchy red, like he'd been through a hard work-out. Instead, he was venting, taking out the sum of his anger and his aggravation, everything he wanted to direct towards Jace and Clary and even himself, taking it out on Magnus. And somehow the warlock was taking it with grace. He was being too nice! It would be easier to fight back, match harsh stroke for stroke.

Instead, the fast succession of texts was trying to diffuse the emotional teenage time bomb. And doing the job way too damned well. It was like his soft voice…his gentle touch. Alec was unwillingly letting the spell weave around him again.

"I just wish you'd told me."

"I'm sorry," Magnus repeated, trying to show he was sincere.

"Fine," Alec typed, admitting petulant defeat.

"Do you believe me?"

"No," Alec replied automatically, stubborn.

There was a long pause, his screen blank after his last text had sent. Magnus wasn't replying.

"Yes," Alec typed, and biting his lip, he decided to send his changed answer.

"Do you forgive me?" Magnus's message flashed.

"Working on it." It was kind of weird, how much easier it was to speak to Magnus over a phone. Through text messaging, that is.

Of course it was easy. They were just two-dimensional words. He didn't have to look up at the warlock, or feel the shock of his touch. Or worry about saying or doing something stupid. There was always backspace, so he could take it back before punching the send button.

"Have you slept at all since you left?" Magnus asked. Alec sighed, sagging back against the stiff mattress.

"No." And in another text: "You?"

"No."

"The girl?"

"Ah, no. That was only twenty minutes."

"You should sleep."

"You're right. Maybe I would if my cell would quiet."

Alec frowned, maybe a little hurt at this point, and snapped the phone shut. But it vibrated almost as soon as he'd closed it.

"Kidding. It's not your fault."

OK, now he was feeling guilty again. He'd been so quick to talk crap about Magnus, to make him the figurative punching bag for all of his problems, and here he was, probably the only one who hadn't hit him below the belt and walked away.

"You should sleep too. You must be exhausted."

"I'm used to it," Alec replied, though yawning to himself.

"You're still human."

"What's your excuse?"

"LOL," Magnus replied.

"LOL?"

"Laughing out loud. You're so cute."

"Shut up."

"No, really. I bet you had that cute little blank look on your face when I wrote that."

"Now I know what it means. So. Thank you."

" _My pleasure,_ " Magnus replied.

Alec sniffed, shaking his head and stared up at the cracks in the ceiling, trying to pick out any spiders in the plaster. He hated spiders. But they liked to string webs around the light fixtures, and in the corners of the rooms at the Institute. As clean as they were, who thought to take a broom to the ceiling?

His cell buzzed again. Wearily, Alec looked down at the screen again.

"Am I forgiven?"

"Yes. And I'm sorry too."

"Don't be."

Alec closed his eyes, trying to remember the sound of Magnus's voice. He imagined what it would sound like, speaking the words.

"Get some rest, Alexander."

"Are you turning your phone off?"

"No, why?"

"Just. Wondered."

"I'll leave it on just for you."

"Liar. You've got to be available." High Warlock and all.

"There are other ways to reach me. This is my personal cell."

Alec smiled a little at the thought. He had a direct connection, through the warlock's personal line.

"Do you need help sleeping?"

"No. Getting sleepy."

"Me too," Magnus admitted, followed by a winking emoticon.

Alec laughed weakly, sitting up slowly to reach over and turn off the light. He fumbled with his pants, kicking them off. Then he shimmied under the covers in boxers and a t-shirt, curling up with the cell phone.

"Are you in bed right now?"

"Yes."

"Me too."

"Mm."

Alec blushed. "Are you still wearing that robe?"

"Kimono."

"Whatever."

"No."

_What are you wearing, then_? Alec wanted to ask, but didn't. He bit his lip.

"You don't sleep in a kimono. That was just for answering the door."

"How do you sleep?"

"In my birthday suit."

"?"

"LOL. Kidding."

Alec didn't understand the phrase. Or why it was supposed to be funny.


	4. Convene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is short and I apologize in advance! I wanted to maintain the structure of the original fanfic, but in exchange for this tease of a tiny update, I'll try to give you several chapters tonight to make up for it. Deal?
> 
> Also as a side-note for these early chapters; I realize there is mention of Magnus being gay. Please bear in mind this was written before City of Fallen Angels and (spoilers - won't go into any further detail if you haven't read on) any other mention of his previous dating history, so as far as Alec knows - as far as I knew at this point, that was the extent of it. I didn't want to revise this out, so just for clarification ;)

Alec had fallen asleep with his knees drawn up, head bent, and the cell cradled in one fist against his chest. It was comforting and warm, at least figuratively. Not quite the same as having another person to spoon, not that he would know what that felt like. It was more than he was accustomed to, the companionship of his active cell phone, reaching out between burroughs and Alec clung to it, even locked in sleep.

A small white point of light blinked, hidden inside the folds of his shirt.

The phone buzzed two more times throughout the evening, but the warlock eventually realized that the shadowhunter had probably succeeded where he had not, and gone to bed.

_Alec? I was wondering. I'm not familiar with the typical day planner of a shadowhunter, but - What are you doing tomorrow night?_

And then:

_Hm. Sort of thing I shouldn't know? Or did you fall asleep on me?_

_That's so cute._

If Alec dreamed, it wasn't substantial. It wasn't enough time to really relax, much less let his unconscious mind wander into the realm of REM sleep and anything worth remembering. He was exhausted, through and through.

At dawn, he was jolted awake by a continuation of the Clary-in-charge saga. As if the last action-packed evening hadn't been enough for the girl, for any mundane thrill-seeker on an unexpected joy ride to Nowhere Good, laying siege to the very structure of his every day life.

No, she needed to tempt fate two days in a row.

She didn't even know how to wield a weapon, and somehow she was already calling the shots. Well, he was tired of losing sleep over her.

_Losing more than just sleep_ , he reminded himself, grimacing at the thought. No, he wasn't going there. She was just a phase. She was an oddity, an adventure, a vertically challenged distraction that was bound to catch Jace's eye, like waving a red flag to a bull or light before a moth. More than that, she was a new face to look at. But, clearly Alec didn't see the appeal. And he was convinced the appeal would dissipate for Jace.

She was still just a girl.

Jace wanted to meet in the library in five to discuss "battle strategies". Alec rolled his bloodshot eyes, stumbling into the bathroom. He still had his phone in one hand.

Absently, he flicked through the messages quickly. He needed to change into something other than boxers, and he needed to brush his teeth, neither of which he should accomplish while texting.

In spite of his dark mood, the texts Magnus had left made him smile. He was getting used to being called 'cute,' not taking offense to it like he probably should.

All right, he secretly liked it. He was learning that, where Magnus was concerned, it was a compliment, and coming from someone used to being overlooked, well, his point of view might be kind of skewed, but it sent a tingle of hyper-awareness down his back, a thrill of acknowledgement that Alec wasn't used to experiencing. It was like when Magnus looked him in the eyes, really _looked_ at him, and in the reflection of those unusual pupils Alec could  _feel_ the weight of his appraisal and the warmth of his approval. 

He had defenses built for being ignored, but nothing in place for that kind of heated recognition. It was no wonder that a simple word could shake him.

Not that Magnus had to  _know_ , of course. The magic of trying to talk to someone over an electronic device instead of in person. 

Running an useless hand back through his wild hair, Alec tried to text back – taking considerably more time than their conversation last night.

_The life of a shadowhunter is very unpredictable. One doesn't know if he'll even be alive one day to the next._

OK, that was a little morose. And lofty. Very true, but probably not what Magnus wanted to see first thing in the morning. Or mid afternoon - whenever he woke up. He should try to leave him something sweet, like Magnus did for him, without alluding to death, even if it was an inescapable hazard of the job.

_The life of a shadowhunter is very unpredictable._ He backspaced up until that point. _And what about you? Aren't you always on call?_

It occurred to him then: was Magnus just curious what he was doing, or was he…asking him out? The thought made his stomach do that skittery thing and the mirror betrayed the hint of a tentative smile.

What did that entail, exactly? Like...going to the diner and having something to eat? Being a special guest at one of his crazy parties? Hopefully not! Barging in with Jace leading the way was one thing, but going to social reasons was  _way_ out of his comfort zone.

But if not then, maybe... he wanted to go see a movie? Wasn't that conventional for a first date? That'd be kind of weird. And maybe too mundane for either one of them.

Alec didn't really do that much, go out. Would it be out of form for the warlock too? He probably had to stay in a lot. Unending office hours. And it's not like he could go out alone without it being considered sneaking out, especially without being able to properly explain where he was going and why, not to mention with _who_.

Well, that really limited their options, if that was even what Magnus had in mind when he asked. 

Sulking back into the bedroom, Alec jerked on a pair of pajama pants. He'd never gotten around to changing into them last night. They felt strange now, kind of uncomfortable, but it saved him the effort of an explanation.

Distractedly, Alec clicked send and tossed the phone onto the bed, grimacing as he headed out into the hall, his expression already fixed into a glower of discontent. He wasn't happy, and there was no point pretending.

_Let's get this over with_.


	5. Connection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'M SORRY. This chapter is even shorter than the last, a "meanwhile on the other side of New York city," Magnus is oblivious sort of thing, just to make things even more unfortunate. But I'll make up for it with the next update. And it occurs to me that I never actually filled in The Scene at the Institute where Magnus heals him. I swore I had. Alluded it to it, yes, but didn't actually write it? I'll work on that, maybe as an epilogue?

(Happening around the same time, elsewhere in the city)

"Clary!" It was Jace, calling her. "Bring me my stele."

Simon let her go relunctantly. She knelt down next to the Shadowhunters, the Mortal Cup thumping heavily against her side. Alec's face was white, freckled with drops of blood, his eyes unnaturally blue. His grip on Jace's wrist left bloody smears. "Did I..." he started, then seemed to see Clary, as if for the first time. There was something in his look she hadnt expected. Triumph. "Did I kill it?"

Jace's face twisted painfully. "You-"

"Yes," Clary said. "It's dead."

Alec looked at her and laughed. Blood bubbled up in his mouth. Jace pulled his wrist free, touched his fingers to either side of Alec's face. "Don't," he said. "Hold still, just hold still."

Alec closed his eyes. "Do what you have to," he whispered. (City of Bones by Cassandra Clare, paperback edition, pg 358)

 

* * *

 

Slung haphazardly across the bed were the barely worn pajama pants, Alec's rumpled t-shirt, and beneath it, his discarded cell.

After a while, the soft light started to blink. A new message.

It was Magnus's voice this time, left after the automated voicemail picked up:

"You were right." Sigh. "I'm always on call, as you put it. But I was having the _sweetest_ dream about this adorable boy with blue eyes. He was licking my face, and purring like a cat. I swear, I thought I was dead – and incidentally, converted, and gone to Heaven." Clipped laugh. " _Imagine_ my surprise when I opened my eyes and realized it really _was_ my cat. I should have known – the tongue was much too rough. Ah, well."

Another sigh.

"Feel free to wake me up anytime you want to talk. I'm open late.

"What was I saying? Hmmm. Oh, right. So I got maybe two hours' sleep and I'm sure I look _hideous_. That will take some work. I might as well get started _now_." He paused for a second, getting up. The phone rattled a little.

"So, I'll probably be all booked up today. I'm going to work like a fiend and pencil any possible calls in early, so that I can be wide open for you tonight. Not that I'm pressuring you. But I'd _really_ like to see you. Just think about it?

"Call me!"

There was a light, kissing sound and then a chuckle. And the message ended.


	6. Compassion: Part I

"Anyway," Isabelle went on, "it was horrible, and I don't know what we would have done if Magnus hadn't showed up and magicked Alec back to health. Is that a word, 'magicked'?" She crinkled her eyebrows.

...

"So Magnus fixed you?" Clary said. "Luke said-"

"He did!" said Isabelle. "It was so awesome. He showed up and ordered everyone out of the room and shut the door. Blue and red sparks kept exploding out into the hallway from underneath the floor."

"I don't remember any of it," said Alec.

"Then he sat by Alec's bed all night and into the morning to make sure he woke up okay," Isabelle added.

"I don't remember that, either," Alec added hastily. (City of Bones by Cassandra Clare, paperback edition, pg. 478)

 

* * *

 

**BANE**

The familiar faceplate seemed so _shiny_ in the light of the afternoon. Or maybe Magnus had just gotten around to buffing it.

Unlikely.

Alec smiled, shifting his weight to his uninjured leg in order to lift his arm and press the buzzer. Aside from the rearranging of crutches, he did it this time without hesitation.

His phone was dead. Well, not exactly dead. Sleeping? He'd run out of battery power, probably during the long stay in the infirmary and it wasn't high on his list of things to do, putting it back on the charger. He really should get around to it. What if Magnus had been trying to contact him?

"How may I be of service?" a voice crackled from the speaker, so much softer than usual. It made Alec chuckle. Was this his formal business voice? So it wasn't just the name plate that got a makeover by the light of the day.

"It's me," Alec replied, unassumingly.

"ALEC!" Magnus gasped in pleasure, "Don't _MOVE!_ I'm coming down."

By the Angel, he missed him. Well, that wasn't even the right way to put it. He hadn't actually seen much of him – he was unconscious for so much of it, and then weak when he woke up, barely able to focus on an equally tired Magnus. But Alec remembered that smile, the soft glow the first thing he saw when his vision cleared. He was so _relieved_ and happy that Alec had pulled through and Alec, he was relieved to see as much as be seen, to consciously draw breath again even if it burned past the ache in his chest and the raw length of his throat.

Alec wished he could have been more coherent at the time, so he could have thanked him and thanked him again. Magnus saved his life. There was no one else; Hodge's antidote had failed and the Silent Brothers weren't coming for _him_. If Magnus hadn't come…

But he did. Somehow he did, he knew to come and he gave the task everything he had. Everything. Isabelle wouldn't stop talking about it – it was really starting to get annoying, but she was so relieved too. So he let her go on. Tell everyone that stopped by about the blue and red sparks and how Magnus had stayed to make sure he would wake up, which really wasn't a vital part of the story and could have been omitted to spare him the embarrassment! But every time she repeated that part, it did funny things to his stomach and it made him smile. So maybe it was fine.

The door flew open and the warlock stood for a moment in the entryway, smiling hugely, his eyes widening at the sight of Alec, still in his bandages and leaning into the support of the crutches.

"Hi," Alec greeted, feeling the pull of the lingering smile shyly tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Hello," Magnus drawled, regarding him seriously for a moment – as if trying to assess if he was all right, maybe if he was still in any pain.

Obviously he checked out, because Magnus swooped in and those long-fingered hands were framing his warm face and leaving quick, shocking kisses all over his cheeks, his nose, one or two pushing at his mouth, but not asking anything, just anointing him with kisses.

"I can't believe you shuffled all this way to see me," Magnus chided, shaking his head. Not that he was angry in the least - he was beaming. He was the Magnus that everyone saw today: Magnus of a thousand colors, although his wardrobe wasn't so much a riot of color this afternoon. Pants black, belt black - though the buckle was shiny rhinestone. The shirt was the only indulgence: blinding yellow. But even that seemed plain, because there were no gems, no glitter, no buckles or anything added to it. Just the loud color.

But he was in full make-up, his hair styled into the careful spikes. His eyes were dark rings, the lashes and eyebrows coated in glitter. And his fingernails were crusted with glittery nail polish, a matching yellow, of course.

Alec was trying to get used to being comfortable around this Magnus too, even though he was so much more… well, confidant might not be the word, because he was always confidant. But he was more intimidated by him. And that wasn't even the right word.

It was just _different_.

But he was still Magnus, under all that. Magnus of the blue and red sparks that saved his life. Magnus, with the candor of his sweet late night text messages. Magnus, with his colorful "kimono" and "birthday suit".

That blue lip pushed out slightly, and he realized Magnus was still hunched over in order to remain at eye level with him. He looked disappointed.

"Where did you go just now?"

"Sorry, I was just…thinking." About you.

"I haven't seen you in _days_ ," Magnus pointed out, with a small sigh. "I _did_ call."

"Sorry," Alec apologized again, looking down at silhouette of Magnus's tight-fitting shirt. "My phone died."

"Of course it did, darling. That's what happens when you forget to charge them," Magnus replied, apparently forgiving him. He chuckled. Alec managed to smile.

"Now, give me those eyes again," Magnus requested, tapping beneath his chin. Alec looked up automatically and Magnus was smiling again.

"Mm. I've missed you."

_Me too,_ Alec thought. He couldn't find the nerve to say it, of course, but his smile got bigger and he kind of nudged Magnus's hand with his cheek without thinking.

"So cute," the warlock murmured, then straightened up.

"I'm so rude! You shouldn't be standing around like this. Come on," he tsked, opening the door and tugging on Alec's arm.

"Uh, Magnus…"

"Yes, darling."

"All of those stairs…." And especially _those_ stairs. He was getting around pretty good, and in a couple days he wouldn't need the crutches at all. But he didn't trust those rickety steps with a still-healing leg.

Magnus rolled his eyes. "I'm going to _help_ you. Don't be a baby."

"I'm not—" he grumbled, already regretting the mention.

Magnus cut him off with a quick kiss and then moved to his side, sliding a long arm around his waist, letting Alec lean into him. He urged him to leave the crutches propped up against the wall – he could always come back down and grab them for him later.

Alec complied, propping them at a slight angle before leaning back into Magnus's side. It was kind of awkward, but it seemed to make the warlock so _happy_. Either because he was helping, or because he had him so close, he wasn't sure. Maybe both.

It wasn't easy to match their strides, since Magnus had seriously long legs and Alec was working on one and a half, but they made it back up to his place. Magnus hadn't even shut his door – it was gaping open, Chairman Meow crying from the doorway.

The cat seemed to regard Alec with suspicion.

Magnus shooed him out of the way, leading Alec inside and kicking the door shut behind them.

"Where do you want? Couch? Chair? Bed?" He winked at the last, and Alec choked on a laugh.

"Couch is fine," he answered. This was the first time he'd actually made it past the front door - at least on their own time. When they were alone. He was kind of nervous about it, actually, but after coming all this way…

Magnus helped him over to the couch, gingerly setting him down. Then he sank down into the cushion beside him, casually drawing up his legs, and nudging Alec's shoulder with his own. Guess he did like the closeness, because he wasn't giving him much space.

Alec's face warmed, but he didn't mind.

Magnus touched his bent knuckles to one flushed cheek and smiled. "I love it when you do that."

"Don't you ever blush?" Alec whispered, only a touch defensive, self-consciousness overshadowing the bite.

"It would take _a lot_ ," Magnus replied, smirking.

"To see it through your makeup?" 

"To make me blush," Magnus clarified, chuckling. "Do I seem like the shy type?"

"No," Alec answered, even more self-conscious.

"Oh, but I think it's exquisite on _you_ , darling," he reassured, but that only made it worse. Alec turned brighter red, and had to look away.


	7. Compassion: Part II

****"Magnus?"

"Hm?"

"You know…it hasn't even been a week."

He turned to look back at Magnus, whose right brow was raised in question, clearly not following.

"Since we met. Since we started…talking." This would have gone so much smoother over text, Alec thought, struggling through the awkwardness of voicing his own thoughts, face-to-face.

The warlock's lips twitched, his smile fleeting. Maybe he could read into Alec's hesitation without the need for a backspace. "Too fast for you, darling?"

"See, that's what I'm talking about," Alec stressed. "You call me  _that_ a lot, and you barely know me. If you think about it."

Magnus's mild amusement quickly faded. He sat back on his heels, leaning away from Alec on the couch. "Is that what _you_ think?"

Alec sucked in a nervous breath, but was cut off when Magnus continued. "That we're less than seven day strangers? Because I was under the _distinct_ impression that we'd already run over first base."

Alec's eyes had taken on that blank look, even though he shrank away from the harshness that had overtaken the warlock's tone.

"Come _on now_ , that's a baseball reference. I feel tacky just using it."

Still no recognition in Alec's eyes, though he hung his head.

"Then how about this one," Magnus continued, his voice deeper now, not teasing in the least. "I've seen you without a single article of clothing." Alec blanched, mouth slack. "I've covered your entire body, from your beautiful head to your less attractive toes, and penetrated you with all the magic I have. Believe me, that's a highly invasive, very intimate experience. But I kept it very professional. I'm just trying to make a point." His mouth had drawn tight, his chin lifted. He looked arrogant and peeved and Alec felt like crap, the stabbing guilt overwhelming his embarrassment.

"I pulled you back, Alec," Magnus said, whispering now. His voice was different, pinched. "I saw you lying on that Spartan bed, and you looked like a…like a corpse warmed up, splattered in blood, and reeking of demon poison. I almost tossed my cookies – because I panicked. I told everyone to get their ass out and I threw every ounce of _everything_ I had into trying to heal you. I almost...didn't succeed."

Magnus swallowed, then turned his lofty chin away, crossing his arms over his chest, the skin-tight shirt riding up at the bottom. Despite himself, Alec glanced down at the tanned expanse where a navel should be.

"I didn't even charge. And believe me, it would have drained your Shadowhunter savings account." There was a slight pause, before the heat of those golden eyes returned their attention to Alec.

"Now you tell me, since I don't know you at all, why would I do that? Out of the goodness of my heart? Because I'm inherently altruistic?" He snorted. It was an ugly, bitter sound. "Even my human half wouldn't be that generous."

"I'm sorry," Alec replied after a few tense seconds, looking up pathetically at the angry warlock, not realizing how much his eyes begged for forgiveness. His eyelids were moist.

"I don't remember any of it," he added, wondering if that somehow made him seem less grateful, because he hadn't experienced the entire thing. He didn't know the full extent of what Magnus had done for him. Even Isabelle didn't know the real details, aside from the light show beneath the door and the end result.

"Consider that a blessing," Magnus retorted. "It would have been unbearable," he added, though the look in his eyes clearly said that it had been nearly unbearable for _him_.

"I came here to thank you," Alec pointed out, in the way of a peace offering.

"Did you?" Magnus flatly replied. He wasn't making this easy. Alec took a fortifying breath.

"Yes. Since I didn't get the chance to do it properly...I wanted you to know that I'm grateful for everything you did." He shook his head; that wasn't enough. "I didn't really expect to wake up," he confessed. "I remember how much it hurt, to a point, and I remember the way Clary, and Isabelle, and Jace" Swallow, "how they looked at me. They knew it was bad, and they were scared, but I wasn't scared, because I knew it didn't matter."

Magnus's looked like he was getting angry all over again, but Alec tried to scoot forward and stop him, placating palm resting flat against the edge of his knee.

"I didn't want to _die_. It was more simple than that. I figured once I passed out, whether I died or not, I wouldn't know. I wouldn't feel anything. And I didn't feel anything until I woke up...and you were there. And it ached alot, and I was really hot, really gross." He attempted to smile. "But I was alive, and you're right. You pulled me back. And I don't know the right words to say thank you for something like that."

"You don't need to thank me."

"Yes, I do!" Alec insisted. "And I don't want you to be mad at me. I was just trying to be honest with you."

"I'm not mad at you."

"Are you sure?"

Magnus seemed to consider, then placed his slender hand over Alec's, lightly rubbing. "I'm such a queen. I'm sorry too. I overreacted. I'm sorry...Alec."

The boy smiled, more easily this time. "You can call me whatever you want."

"Oh, I _plan_ to," Magnus replied, grinning suddenly. "But I'll try to change it up a little. 'Darling' does get a little old. And maybe there's a better affectation for you. I'll work on it."

"OK," Alec replied, leaning in and kissing Magnus's cheek, an impulse of the moment. Luckily it was done before he could think better of it.

"Ohhh. You're welcome," the warlock purred, nuzzling Alec's burning cheek in turn.


	8. Conceal

It tickled. Wrinkling his brow, Alec reached up to touch it, and Magnus gently smacked his hand away.

"Patience."

"Where did the bandage go?"

"Trash can. Kitchen, I think."

"How does it look?"

"Not terrible."

"You can leave it, you know? It doesn't hurt anymore."

Magnus sniffed, shaking his head. Alec felt a warmth radiating from the warlock's fingertips as they passed over his forehead lightly, then little shocks of residual energy.

"I can do one better."

"I don't want to wear you out…"

"Alec! Stop raining on my parade. This is purely cosmetic. Very easy, at little expense to me. While I appreciate your concern, and your selflessness, you looked ridiculous with that bandage. Let me do this and stop fidgeting."

"Sorry," Alec replied, trying not to twitch as the sensation of pins and needles grew stronger, the heat intensifying. It wasn't painful, but he wasn't used to it. He gripped the edge of the sofa cushion with his right hand.

Leaning over him, the shadowhunter's head cradled in his lap, Magnus admired his handiwork. He smoothed the messy dark hair back, combing it off his brow to make sure he hadn't missed any part of the healing wound.

His smile was self-satisfied. He cocked his head, glance straying down the length of Alec's neck, to his chest – obscured by the over-worn sweater that had to be two sizes too big.

"How is it healing?" Magnus asked, referring to the fading claw marks. Most of the swelling had gone down the night he'd worked over him to remove the poison, and the redness along with it. He'd managed to prevent any further infection. But there were still light traces of the damage, like fresh scars to remind him.

"I don't even feel it," Alec downplayed the whole thing, suspicious of where this was going.

"Take off your sweater."

\--Exactly where he was _hoping_ this wouldn't lead. Alec sat up carefully and shifted to face Magnus, trying to still play the dismissive card. "I'm fine," he said, traitor cheeks turning red.

"I can see _that_. I made you all better. At least on the inside. Now take this off so I can finish the job," he urged, tugging on the dingy sweater.

Alec blinked, hunching his shoulders forward.

"Am I going to have to count to three?"

"That's so childish…."

"One…"

"Magnus! Just leave it!"

"Two…"

"I told you, I don't care about scars. I've got plenty to go—"

"Three."

_Snap_.

The sweater disappeared. Alec gasped in surprise, folding one arm over his chest at the sudden rush of cold and lack of clothes. Magnus snickered.

"Don't act like a girl. It's nothing I haven't seen before," he reminded, encircling Alec's wrist gently. Alec used his free hand to smack the warlock's hand away, unappreciative of the comparison, but he let his arm fall. Magnus laughed.

"What did you do with it?" he asked through  gradually clenching teeth.

"Trash can. I think."

"I don't have anything else to wear!"

"Too bad. I'll have to loan you something."

Alec groaned, head falling back against the back of the couch.

"Now, don't move," Magnus reminded, scooting closer on his knees. He slowly lowered his hands to Alec's torso. The boy jumped on contact. Magnus paused, shooting him a look. He was in work-mode.

Alec tried to keep still. But it was so much harder this time. For one thing, there was more heat. And the electricity was stronger. He could actually see the shock of blue coming off Magnus's skin and coating his. The tingling turned to burning, and then outright shuddering, though he held onto the armrest of the couch, his other hand gripping his own thigh.

Magnus was quiet, concentrating. Alec closed his eyes and tried to think of something totally unrelated. But he couldn't close off the feeling of pervading warmth. Couldn't not think about the fact that Magnus's bare hands were all over his chest and stomach. He bit his lip to keep from making any noise.

"There, now," Magnus spoke, breathing the words. Obviously the second touch-up job had sapped a little more energy, although he seemed perfectly happy with the result.

He arranged his longer body against Alec's right side, molding to his bare skin like a nuzzling cat. His fingertips skated over the newly healed skin in appreciation of his work.

"That wasn't so bad, was it?

"...Not really," Alec reluctantly admitted, leaving it at that.

"What's your favorite color?"

"Black."

Magnus made that sniffing, disdainful noise again, bumping his nose against Alec's bare shoulder. He twitched.

"Try again. Black doesn't really count as a color."

"Since when?"

"Since I vetoed it. Name a color that's not in your wardrobe."

"Ummm…green?"

"Green," Magnus repeated, nodding his approval. He made an elaborate gesture with his hand, and a snug green t-shirt encased Alec. It was clean, although it had that sweet, clingy smell that he'd come to associate with the warlock.

"Yours?"

"Mhm. It shrunk in the wash."

Alec looked down at it, pulling on the end of the fabric. It was solid green, except for the words HOT STUFF, outlined in black and filled in with rhinestones. Alec wrinkled his nose.

"Don't you like it?"

"It's…warm." Technically true, and a wise concession. "Thank you."

Magnus smiled, kissing his now clothed shoulder. "It looks hot on you. You know, you could go a long way if you tried to branch out from black. And faded black. If you ever get confused, just consult a crayon box."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"And then, when you've mastered color, we can branch out!" Magnus said with enthusiasm, nudging his side.

"No glitter," Alec objected, eyes widening.

"No, no. Not in the beginning. I was thinking more along the lines of stripes. Or patterns. Baby steps."

"Oh." He sighed in relief, and managed a faint smile.

"So I've got two requests for you," Magnus said after a minute of comfortable silence, fingers combing idly through Alec's hair. When he encountered knots, he managed to release them without pulling. Alec suspected he just made them 'disappear' too. Hopefully there wouldn't be any bald spots, though, from the missing hair.

"What's that?" he answered, distracted, tentative.

"First, I want you to wear this shirt all day. And you can't hide under another ratty sweater."

"But I'll get cold," he objected, working the sympathetic angle.

"Then throw a long-sleeve underneath. That'll look fine. And still make me happy."

"What else?" Alec sighed, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

"Charge your phone as soon as you get back."

Alec smiled, looking back up at the warlock from under his dark lashes.

"OK."

"That's all I want," Magnus replied, with an answering smile. He stared into Alec's eyes for a few seconds, enjoying the self-conscious heat that always came over the boy's face when the intensity kicked up a notch. "For now."


	9. Communion

"Are you mad?"

Alec, leaning against the wall of the elevator, glared across the small space at Jace. "I'm not mad."

"Oh, yes you are." Jace gestured accusingly at his stepbrother, then yelped as pain shot up his arm. Every part of him hurt from the thumping he'd taken that afternoon when he'd dropped three floors through rotted wood into a pile of scrap metal. Even his fingers were bruised. Alec, who'd only recently put away the crutches he'd had to use after his fight with Abbadon, didn't look much better than Jace felt. His clothes were covered in mud and his hair hung down in lank, sweaty strips. There was a long cut down the side of his cheek.

"I am not," Alec said through his teeth. "Just because you said dragon demons were extinct--"

"I said mostly extinct."

Alec jabbed a finger toward him. "Mostly extinct," he said, voice trembling with rage, "is NOT EXTINCT ENOUGH."

(City of Ashes, paperback edition, page 9-10)

 

* * *

 

 

Alec kicked a sizable rock with his booted foot. By the sting of it, it was probably more cement chuck than natural rock. It left a dull throbbing in his big toe, but he didn't care.

The sun had gone down several hours ago. It made everything smell different; staler in places, more dangerous in others. Apt, since it was when most demons and downworlders came out to play, in the cloak of night, when the street lights took the place of sunshine and steam rose from the gutters, dancing with the fog and dissipating into the air, natural cloaking for anyone who didn't take humor form, offering safety in obscurity.

It was easier to hunt in the dark; easier to hide in the shadows, and corner some unsuspecting prey. And as an added bonus, there were fewer witnesses outside to sound the alarm.

Not that any of this deterred Alec from walking, alone, in Central Park. The shadows were his playground too, his realm for as long as he could remember. They enveloped him perfectly, from the dark outline of his hair through the shapeless silhouette of his clothes, down to the dull gleam of his shoes, swallowing the sounds of his even stride as he moved through the park.

He had his stele, and a small blade. And his cell phone. OK, so it was a little mundane, to take comfort in being able to dial 911. He'd probably try Isabelle first. Or Jace.

No, not Jace. Not tonight.

 _Jace._ He sighed. Alec didn't know where he was, not exactly. He had an idea. Jace always turned to mischief and self-destruction when he was upset – if only because he wouldn't let himself be upset like most people, and give into the emotion. Crumbling was out of the question; relieving his burden by sharing it with someone else highly unlikely. Instead, he'd vent on someone else; get into an argument, go on a reckless hunt, crash on some scene.

Of course, Alec worried about him – where he went, what he was doing, and what kind of injuries he would come back with. But he wasn't Jace's keeper. He couldn't even comfort him like he wanted to; Jace wouldn't let him. Maybe his sister could try, though weird to think of Clary that way.

She still had a stronger claim on Jace than he did.

A couple walked by, bent arm in arm, laughing at something stupid. They didn't even look at him.

Alec kicked at a fallen branch this time, grimacing.

His cheek still burned. He should have put something on the scratch. Instead, he'd just taken a shower and gingerly touched it with soap. He'd been more focused on getting the muck out of his hair, and off his skin.

Isabelle tried to call a few minutes ago; left a message, something about fresh brownies in a pyrex. _Ugh_. He was afraid.

She was trying to make him feel better, in her way. She just didn't know how not comforting her comfort-food was.

At least he was almost an adult. Old enough that his mother couldn't put him on room arrest because she'd come home mad, not like she could do to Max (not that anyone was ever mad at Max). She was working up to a good one. Unfortunately, he suspected most of her anger was going to be directed towards Jace, just one more thing to throw at him.

But Jace was old enough too. He had to answer to his elders; it was the age-old chain of command. No one was exempt.

He raked a hand back through his hair, making it stand out in places. It was the too-hot shower, too humid on his slightly curling hair, leaving it kind of wild. But at least it was clean.

His phone buzzed against his chest. Alec nudged the leg of a park bench with the end of his boot, then turned around to sink down into it, flicking the phone open.

 **Magnus:**  
_  
Would you like to come over for a little while? I've got Sangria._

Alec made a face, not sure what 'Sangria' was. It wasn't some form of blood, was it?

He squinted his eyes, typing back:  
_  
Don't know what that is._

And then, trying to reach for an excuse that wouldn't hurt the warlock's feelings:  
_  
I'm not feeling great tonight. Another time?_

 **Magnus:**  
_  
What's wrong? Is it your leg?_

Alec shook his head; he should have known it wouldn't be that easy.  
_  
My leg's fine. Almost 100%. Thanks._

**Magnus:**

_Good. Then tell me what's bothering you._  
  
Was it that transparent? He sighed.

 _Jace. My mom. Hard day at the office_ , he tried to joke, imagining it was something Magnus would say in his stead.

**Magnus:**

_Then you need Sangria! It goes down easy, and the taste is sweet._

_Please? I've missed you._

Alec lifted his eyes beseechingly towards the star-filled sky. He just wanted to sulk in private for another half hour, and then maybe head back to the Institute and try for an early night.

But he'd feel even worse if he let down Magnus, after an entreaty like that.  
_  
Fine. I'll be there soon. Look out for me_

**Magnus:**

_Oh, I will. And you don't have to drink the wine. I can whip you up some hot chocolate, if you prefer. I bet you'd look cute in whipped cream._

Alec released a clipped exhale through his nose, weary amusement. It was the best he could do, at the moment. _Um. Thanks._


	10. Concern

Alec's finger was about to push the buzzer when he realized the door to the stairwell was wide open. There were dark streaks across the knob, dried drops of...something along the floor of the entry, leading beyond.

Panic set in. His hand went reflexively to his belt, fingering the hilt of the small dagger as he hugged the opposite edge of the doorway. Climbing the stairs quietly posed a bit of a problem, because no light-footing would go without an answering creak from the protesting wood. He cursed every sound the dilapidated stairwell made beneath him, hoping that he was wrong. Maybe he'd just thrown another wild party and neglected to bother with the clean-up.

But by the time he'd reached the top, Alec's heartbeat was hammering in his ears. The strange streaks were all over the door to Magnus's flat, which was left wide open too, the interior dark and still.  
 _  
That's when they come out to play_ , he reminded himself, worry for Magnus so strong he couldn't breathe. It was pathetic, but he felt the difference between the gut-tightening he experienced before walking into a dangerous situation (fear for himself) and this kind of sick, overwhelming panic. If something had happened to Magnus, he'd come too late. And there was nothing Alec could do about it.

He'd never considered the warlock would have real enemies – but that was stupid, because he dealt with all kinds of people, all walks of creatures. And to make matters worse, he didn't have much of a filter on his mouth, which only invited trouble.

"Magnus?" Alec breathed. A whistling sound came from the kitchen and he jumped, shoulder knocking back against the door.

Chairman Meow strolled out to greet him, giving him that unamused stare before heading back to the bedroom. Some guard dog. Er, "cat".

"Alec!" the warlock called from the doorway of the kitchen, hands on his hips. "That was fast."

"You scared me!" he reprimanded, scowling. "I thought someone had broken into your apartment, and you were lying in a pile of ash somewhere. Or exsanguinated. Or…kidnapped."

Magnus tried to regard him seriously, eyes gone wide. When he seemed to realize Alec wasn't kidding in the least, he laughed softly, crossing the large space between them in order to embrace the shadowhunter.

" _Don't_!" Alec hissed, maybe pouting just a little. He felt dizzy from relief, and it was hard to stand. He had to reset his heart.

"Alec," Magnus breathed, handling him carefully, long fingers simultaneously coursing through his hair, while his lips warmed his uninjured cheek and he tried to lean into Alec, though it was a little awkward, given the height difference. It was placating, meant to be soothing, though Alec bristled, not sure if he was being made fun of or not.

"I'm sorry I worried you. It was a bit…reckless to leave the place wide open like that, but I knew you were coming and I guess I was a little overeager. I didn't want to wait to buzz you in."

Alec didn't reply, but eventually he relaxed into the warlock. Magnus must have sensed the shift in his body language, reading the permission that Alec unwittingly gave and taking full advantage with lips that traveled into his hair, his spider fingers crawling down the length of his back now, and drawing him closer.

"By the way, you have a very dark imagination."

Alec shook his head, closing his eyes. "I've seen it."

"Oh, right," he quietly replied, cheek rested atop his soft hair. As an afterthought Magnus flicked his wrist and the door closed, locking it for good measure.

"Thank you," Alec breathed against him, lips parted and resting against the lightly tanned throat, right above the collar of another bright shirt. At least it was a soft cotton. He was rewarded by a light shudder, Magnus's nails curling in slightly against his back.

It occurred to him that this was probably the longest time they'd managed to cling to each other, and that he didn't mind it. There was something in the way he made Magnus shudder that he liked. Testing the waters of taking the initiative, wanting to get another reaction out of the warlock, Alec tentatively touched his tongue to that caramel skin, wondering how it would _taste..._

The whistling sound suddenly grew more pronounced. "I'll be right back," Magnus said with a sigh, kissing his forehead, then padded back into the kitchen.


	11. Chocolate

Alec's nostrils flared while he waited near the door, smelling a trace of something burning He tried to listen for movement in the kitchen. There was a soft creak, something being set down onto the countertop, a clang of metal against metal, followed by a cabinet opening, old hinges squeaking, and Magnus was humming.

Chairman Meow came back out of the bedroom, bored. He followed the warlock into the kitchen, equally curious about what was going on.

The refrigerator rattled open and Magnus chuckled from the other room. "I know what I'm doing." Was he talking…to the cat?

"Do you…uh…need some help?" Alec called, hoping Magnus wasn't cooking or anything. He wasn't hungry, and he wasn't sure if Magnus was any better at it than Isabelle. Only difference was, he'd make himself eat whatever Magnus made, swallow and bear it because he didn't want to disappoint him, though his stomach twisted.

"No, no!" Magnus called back, something else clanking against the counter. "I've done this before." He laughed a little to himself. "Just not _by hand_."

"You mean, with magic?"

"It does seem to cut down on the mess."

"You don't really seem like much a clean freak," Alec replied. And that was an understatement. Magnus didn't seem to care much at all about keeping his place neat, from the general clutter to the prevalence of grime all over the walls and the floors and the ceiling. Maybe he even liked it this way. But couldn't he just…snap and set it all to rights? With all the traffic coming through his flat, Alec figured it might be a higher priority.

"And you are," Magnus retorted, leaning out of the doorway briefly to wink at Alec. It wasn't a question. The shadowhunter shrugged and Magnus chuckled, ducking back inside the kitchen.

"Acceptance is the first step toward admitting you have a problem," he crooned.

"Cleaning up after yourself isn't a bad thing," Alec defended, walking forward. "Which reminds me, what is that stuff on your front door? And downstairs?" He tried to make light of it, now that he knew it wasn't the warlock's blood, or traces of some demonic intruder.

"What?" Magnus asked, his back to Alec. The kitchen was just as he expected – things strewn out all over the counter, dirty dishes piled in the sink, a trail of cat food circling the bowl (Magnus's fault, he assumed, not Chariman Meow's). The floor could desperately use a broom and a mop with bleach. The whole place could afford to be thoroughly disinfected.

It just didn't add up. Magnus wasn't sloppy with his own appearance – his face looked like it took a while to put on, and he picked his clothing with care. He couldn't even imagine how much effort went into his hair. But everything outside of his own person, it was a wreck, like his personal grooming and his busy schedule didn't leave time for anything else.

"You didn't see it? It's all over the floor, and the doors, and I think I saw some of it on the stairs."

Magnus turned around to face him, extending one hand. His fingertips were tipped in some sticky, dark brown liquid, which dripped to the floor at his feet. Alec wrinkled his nose.

"Did it look like this?"

"Kind of. What _is_ that?"

"Chocolate syrup," Magnus replied with a snicker.

" _Chocolate?_ "

"Mhm."

Magnus's mouth curved and he lifted his hand, palm up, and slid his pointer finger into his mouth, sucking from the fingertip progressively down to his middle knuckle, coming back up and licking the last from his lips. Any trace of the chocolate was gone. Then he wrapped his mouth around his finger again, sucking the remnants from the base of the same finger.

Alec was spellbound. He stared dumbly, eyes gone wide.

"Want some?" Magnus purred, tongue darting out again, catching against the corner of his lips.

The shadowhunter shook his head, face warming.


	12. Climax

"No?" Magnus taunted, tongue swirling around his middle finger now, too careful to be anything but deliberate, eyes watching Alec unabashedly, shining with mischief.

No, he definitely wasn't shy. But this was another side to the warlock he hadn't seen yet: colorful host, candid and sweet, concerned and persistent.

And now seductive.

"No," Alec managed, his voice low. Not shaky, though. It didn't sound half as nervous as he left.

The warlock paused, lifting his head, one brow raised. "Don't you like chocolate?"

"I guess. Dark chocolate."

"I thought you might," Magnus replied, smiling slightly. "What about whipped cream?"

"Don't need it."

"It's not a matter of _need_ ," he scoffed, cleaning the rest of his fingers with his mouth – though with greater efficiency and speed, no longer teasing. "You don't _need_ whipped cream or cinnamon or an extra shot of expresso in your cappuccino, but it makes it taste _so_ much better."

"I drink it black."

"Of course you do," Magnus replied, and his tone sounded almost mocking.

"I don't need all that stuff," Alec shrugged. Coffee was coffee. "I don't mind the taste."

"Do you even notice what it tastes like?"

Alec considered, trying to remember coffee being anything other than 'hot' and 'bitter'. He shook his head. "Not really."

"Then what's the point in drinking it?"

"Wakes me up. And it's one of the few things Isabelle makes that I can ingest," he joked. Magnus didn't look amused.

"You know, adding color to your life is just one thing you desperately need."

"What else?" Alec prompted, forehead creased. He didn't see the point in arguing, although there was a reason he didn't have a closetful of color. It didn't work, not for hunting, not for blending. And it wasn't _him_ , anyway.

"A haircut, for one," Magnus tsked, eying the uneven silhouette he was currently sporting.

"What else?" Alec repeated, rolling his eyes.

"You need to find your nearest Starbucks and order something you can't pronounce. The more Italian it sounds, the better it's going to taste. And you need to drink it, slowly. _Savor_ it. You do know what that means, don't you?"

Alec rolled his eyes again in lieu of a reply.

"And then I want you to tell me how much better that frivolous five dollar cup of coffee tasted, compared to the tar you've been subsisting on."

Alec didn't see the big deal, why this assignment was so important to Magnus, but he nodded offhandedly, letting the warlock know that he would humor him. Fine. Maybe tomorrow.

"And even though you might not be able to understand it until you've ordered that drink, _this_ will be just a taste of what I could offer you, if you'd just stop being so stubborn and afraid."

"I'm not afraid," Alec interjected, straightening.

"Yes, you are," Magnus argued, crossing his arms over his chest.

"What am I afraid of?" Alec challenged, holding his hands out in a gesture of incredulity.

"You're afraid of what you want," the warlock explained, lips pressed together, sharp eyes daring him to ask him to elaborate – or disagree. Alec didn't. His mouth thinned out as well, and he turned on his heel like he was going to walk out of the kitchen. 

It was being pushed too far, going from teasing suggestion to being judged for his own habits. They were comfortable and they worked, and Alec failed to see the flaw in any of it. Besides, it was also the principle of the thing, the suggestion that fear was what stopped him from doing anything differently. No self-respecting shadowhunter should swallow the accusation of being called a coward, and it was just the same, wasn't it? 

"I don't want to dress up like a gay pride parade," Alec spit out, before he could lose the nerve. "I don't want to cut my hair. It's fine as long as it's out of my face. And I don't want to pay five dollars for a too-sweet cup of coffee. I don't see the point! That's _you_ , Magnus. Not me."

The warlock's green-gold eyes narrowed. "Are you finished?"

Alec breathed in slowly, and then exhaled, expecting an angry tirade to come back at him after that. He nodded warily, too late to take it back.

Magnus turned away from him, reaching a long arm out to the counter. When he turned back, he held a mug in one hand. Whatever was inside, it was covered by a swirling, cone-shaped mound of whipped cream, topped by that sticky syrup that had coated his fingers. Somehow he'd managed to apply it in the shape of a heart.

Magnus waved his free hand over the top of it and the garnish disappeared. This time Alec clearly heard the wet _thwap_ of the whipped cream/chocolate mess reappearing on the inside of the kitchen trash can.

"Hot and dark. Just like you wanted," Magnus said, his voice oddly monotone. He pushed the mug closer to Alec, forcing him to take it in hand. The handle wasn't hot, but he could see the steam rising off the top of it, feel it radiating off the ceramic.

Alec looked down at the contents. It was too light for coffee and it smelled richer, familiar. That's right; Magnus had offered to make him hot chocolate.

He grimaced, remembering. Magnus had tried to do something sweet for him, and he'd called him a gay pride parade. 

"Magnus…I'm sorry," he tried to apologize, the steam curling up and warming his face, tickling his chin. It warred with the heat of shame rising to the surface of his skin.

Magnus shook his head, his expression the same. "Just drink it."

Alec glanced back down at the cup and slowly lifted it to his lips, blowing on it. Then he closed his eyes, not wanting Magnus to see his reaction if it was really gross.

He was coaching himself – _swallow it, it's just one drink. You've had worse. You've had years of practice at stuff like this. You've managed to fool Isabelle this long. Do it because you care._

Alec tipped the bottom of the mug a little, bringing the hot liquid to his mouth. Cautiously he parted his lips and drank.

It was…hot. And sweet. And there was some kind of spice in it too, layered in with the chocolate. But it wasn't bad, no. And he didn't have to put any effort into swallowing, except past the lump of tension that rose in the back of his throat with regret.

Alec took another deep sip, swallowed, and licked his lips.

The mug was empty in two minutes. He wiped any trace of chocolate from his mouth with the back of his hand. Then lowering the empty mug, he opened his eyes and looked up at Magnus, trying to gauge the mood. The warlock was watching him carefully, waiting.

"It wasn't bad," he admitted, face warming a little as the hot chocolate traveled down the length of his throat and into his chest.

"Was it good?" Magnus prompted, not satisfied with his first answer.

"Yes," he admitted, looking down at the empty bottom of the cup, a dark ring coating the outline of the glass.

"Good," Magnus replied, taking the mug from him. He set it atop the pile of dishes in the sink with a muted  _clink_ of glass hitting glass.

"Thank you," Alec added, trying to make this better – trying to discern if finishing the drink had helped his case at all, even a little bit.

"You're welcome," Magnus answered automatically. Chairman Meow was lapping up the spilled chocolate syrup between them.

"Come on. Let me fix your face."

Alec's eyes went wide at the suggestion, worried he was talking cosmetics.

Magnus rolled his eyes. "Down, boy. I was talking about that nasty cut. I'm going to heal you."

"You don't have to…" Alec objected, following him out of the kitchen.

"I want to," the warlock replied, gesturing towards the couch. Alec sat down near the end, resting his elbow on the arm rest. But Magnus didn't sit down beside him. Instead he stood over him, his fingers sliding beneath his chin and angling his face up so he could get a better look under the light.

"It's not infected," he pointed out. Alec nodded slightly.

"It's just ugly," he muttered under his breath.

"Well, we can't have _that_ ," Magnus replied, finally relaxing his mouth in a small smile. He gently ran his thumb along the edge of the gash, Alec sucking in a breath. Magnus's eyes flickered, then he passed two fingers over the wound again, that warming, electric sensation infusing his face. He couldn't help shivering. Alec tried to keep still, remembering how his moving seemed to get in the way of the process. Or maybe it just distracted Magnus.

He curled his fingers into the arm rest and sighed.

Instead of announcing that it was done, Magnus bent down and kissed his hot cheek. There was no discomfort this time as his lips traced where the scratch had been, and Alec unconsciously inclined his head against his mouth.

Magnus's left hand rested against the opposite side of his neck, and he breathed his name, calling Alec's attention back to his face.

He opened his eyes, looking into those cat eyes. Magnus's thumb was drawing a slow circle against his throat. Alec wasn't sure if he wanted to arch against that hand, or rub against the other hand cupping his cheek.

"Do you want me to kiss you?" Magnus asked suddenly, as if he knew that he was trapped and indecisive. Maybe it was the twitching, the warmth in his face and the look in his own eyes that gave him away.

His focus shifted to the warlock's mouth and he considered it. His heartbeat was louder now. Magnus, with his acute sense of hearing, had to know.

Alec remembered what Magnus had said in the kitchen. At the time, it had irritated him that the warlock was trying to analyze him, like he was some kind of mind-reader, or a hack reading tea leaves. Of course the accusation that he was afraid set him off more than anything; he wasn't supposed to be afraid of the things mundanes feared. Darkness, danger. Death.

But he was still human, and he did harbor secret fears. Probably the same fears that they did: rejection, hurt. His own desire - the fact that he didn't know how to act on that desire, and he was afraid of being teased, or rejected, or even hurt in the process, though it was pride that kept him from admitting it, distrust that held him back from conceding Magnus was right.

The fact that Magnus might have the power he lacked was indisputable; he'd had centuries' worth of experience, and Alec didn't doubt for a second that he had been with many others in that time. He was attractive, self-assured, a beacon for admiring glances, and not just because of the glitter, whereas Alec hadn't been with anyone, had shied away from and ignored any stray looks that might have been directed his way, all part of his own philosophy that not taking that chance, pretending that he didn't even want, much less need to in some way kept him safe. It made him look as unafraid or unconcerned as Jace or Isabelle, his only first-hand means for comparison. He wanted to be like them. It seemed so easy.

He stared up into those strange, appealing eyes and had to struggle to remember that he had hurt Magnus, that he desperately wanted to make amends, and to show him that he wasn't completely useless in the face of fear.

"Yes."


	13. Conjoin

It felt like he was wearing a bullet-proof vest, or heavy chain mail, tight and constrictive around his ribcage. It was hard to breathe, to let his chest expand as much as it was used to. His breathing was fast and shallow, and embarrassingly loud. 

It was kind of like how it felt under water after a minute, when he really should come up for air, but he was always pushing himself, trying to extend his own personal record. He embraced the burn, tried to stay off the instinctive panic, and counted the seconds in his head until he had no choice but to break.

Alec tried to count in his head, using the same technique to keep his mind off the encroaching kiss -- and the rising panic. Would it be weird? Would he make a complete ass of himself?

If they just hadn't _talked_ about it, it might be so much easier, doing it without the expectation. And the anticipation. And the anxiety.

And the fear.

He was up to almost fifteen when he realized nothing was happening. He barely heard Magnus breathing, much less felt the rush of air against his mouth.

Alec opened his eyes, blinking up at the warlock.

"Relax," Magnus instructed, one brow raised. "You looked like you were in pain, and I haven't even done anything yet."

Alec blushed, the furrow between his brows less pronounced.

"Do you really want me to kiss you, or are you just humoring me?"

Damn, he was good. 'Appeasing' Magnus was out of the question. And pretending that he was bartering affection for forgiveness was off the table too. He wasn't going to let him get away with that.

Thinking back to what Magnus had said earlier, Alec chose his words carefully, even though he had to bravely push them past tense lips.

"I want it," he breathed, hand squeezing the arm rest. After several dragging seconds, he looked back up at Magnus's face, trying not to shrink back under the intensity of that charcoal stare.

"But could you…maybe…"

"What?" Magnus asked, leaning in closer to hear him.

"Could you…take it off?"

Magnus's brows shot up and Alec tried to gesture to own face in impatience, referring to the makeup.

"You don't like it?"

"It's easier -- without it," he stumbled through the admission.

Magnus smiled, the same smile he used when he found something Alec said or did 'cute'. Then he shrugged.

He expected Magnus to get up and head into the bathroom to wash it off. He didn't know what kind of effort and time it would take to clean up, and actually, now that he thought about the impulsive request, maybe he shouldn't have bothered. Really bad timing on his part.

Apparently Magnus was impatient too, because he didn't get up. Instead he lifted his hands like he was going to rub his face. He smoothed his palms over his nose, his closed eyes, the heels of his hands brushing his mouth and cheeks, his fingertips running over his forehead. Then those hands ran back over his hair, dislodging the spikes as if he were just running his fingers through smooth, wet hair.

His hair fell loose and straight against his neck on the sides and partially into his eyes in the front. And his skin was the natural honey tan, lips a soft pink, eyes still the most dramatic feature – even without the dark rings and the glitter. By all rights, the cosmetics should have been smeared all over his face; instead, any trace was wiped clean.

"Better?" he asked, brows raised again in question.

"Yeah," Alec replied, eyes roaming over the clean sweep as if trying to figure out the trick, while unconsciously admiring the change.

"This better be good," Magnus chuckled, swiping his palms down the front of his pants, rubbing off smears of what looked like powder across his thighs.

"Is it uncomfortable for you, without makeup?"

"I feel surprisingly naked," Magnus retorted, and laughed at Alec's expression. "I take it off before bed every night. It's fine. I just like wearing it; I don't need it."

"I don't think I could stand having all of that all over my face."

"And there's no reason you should. You're just fine with the face your mother gave you," Magnus said, winking. It wasn't quite as potent without the glamour.

"You're fine without it too," Alec replied, emboldened.

"I _am_ fine," Magnus agreed, grinning.

"You're worse than Jace!"

A weird look came over the warlock's face. Alec sucked in a breath at his mistake, bracing himself for another argument, another hasty apology.

Alec counted to five, curling the nails of his left hand into his palm. Then Magnus spoke again:

"There's no comparison," he drawled. Then he leaned in and kissed Alec, forcing their lips together.

Alec tensed. He was reacting to the force of the kiss, bracing himself, defensive. Magnus's mouth was hard and impatient, proving a point rather than experiencing the sensation. It wasn't how Alec imagined it would be, or the way he wanted it to happen.

He didn't want him to be irritated, or angry, or jealous, if that's what it was.

Alec tried not to respond to the pressure of his mouth, the tongue that teased his lips, trying to find the seam between them. Instead, he slowly, carefully slid his hand into Magnus's silky hair, cradling the back of his neck.

As he instinctively hoped it would, the gentle contact changed the kiss. Magnus relaxed, easing up some of the pressure and his hot breath sighed between them, accepting. He pulled away a fraction, his own long-fingered hand returning to Alec's cheek, stroking now, drawing him closer.

When their lips met again, Alec softened against his mouth, letting his lower lip go slack while Magnus captured it between his. And when his tongue touched the corner of his lips, he relaxed his jaw and submitted to it, shivering when he felt the hot inside of the warlock's mouth, experiencing the full measure of a real kiss.

He could taste the chocolate syrup still on his tongue. It was sticky sweet, and tasting him now, his scent seemed to grow stronger. Alec was sure that the mixture of incense and something else, musky and sweet at the same time, must be permeating his clothing. It was like this when he wore Magnus's shirt home.

Alec didn't realize he was clinging to the warlock's neck until he felt the low rumble against his mouth, a muffled chuckle. Magnus attempted to sink down to his knees, making the height difference less problematic, and Alec tried to ease up his grip, not wanting to unintentionally bruise.

Magnus shifted the angle of the kiss, his fingers curling around the longer strands of Alec's hair. He hummed between them. The vibration made Alec twitch. His body heat was slowly rising with his excitement, with the press of another body trapping the warmth between them.

"Is this how you usually subdue the enemy?" Magnus breathed, obviously teasing.

"I'm better…with a bow," Alec replied lamely, between gasping breaths.

Magnus raised one brow dubiously, but didn't question his skill in archery. His opinion on his kissing, however…

Well, he must have made a favorable impression, because they only got about twenty seconds' recovery before Magnus leaned in again, capturing his mouth.


	14. Canoodling

Alec breathed in deeply, that sweet, clinging scent tickling his nose.

He turned his head, and the soft ends of Magnus's hair brushed his cheek. It was strange, seeing it down, much less feeling the strands softly brushing against his face, but he hadn't gone back on his request, or his opinion. He liked it much better this way. He reached out his hand and passed his fingertips lightly through the last couple inches or so, just to feel it. And if his hand incidentally grazed Magnus's throat in the process, well, that wasn't his original intention.

Magnus's lip twitched.

He knew he wasn't sleeping. Alec snickered, watching Magnus's eyes open, warm and alert.

"Still here?" he teased, lifting his arm lazily from the couch to cover Alec's hand, trapping it there. Slowly, he linked their fingers together.

"Do you want me to go…?"

"Of course not," Magnus replied, closing his eyes again briefly. He stretched out while still lying on his side, at least, he attempted to. The average-sized couch wasn't quite long enough to accommodate his inordinate height. But several bones popped, and Magnus seemed satisfied with the release of tension.

"You could stay," he pointed out, watching Alec again through heavy lids.

Alec shook his head, sitting up a little more on his elbow. "It'll cause more problems than it's worth." Damn. He hadn't meant it to sound quite like it came out.

But Magnus forgave him with another soft smile, too languid to be bothered by a thoughtless choice of words. "Then you'll just have to come back tomorrow."

"Magnus…" he let out his breath slowly. He didn't know how to answer him.

They'd never had any kind of routine, or continuity to the visits. They hadn't known each other long enough to set up anything formal like that. This was only the third time he'd come to the warlock's door, and only once was it planned. While he enjoyed the invitation, and, if he was honest with himself, he _wanted_ to come as soon as possible, he couldn't commit to anything definite. He had no way of knowing what would happen tomorrow night, or where he would be.

"I understand," Magnus interrupted his thoughts, generously relieving him of having to explain. He gave Alec's hand a light squeeze, then released it, rubbing his eyelids with his thumb and pointer.

"I hope you do," Alec replied, with an apologetic smile.

Magnus sighed dramatically. "I'll just have to pine away the hours writing bad poetry and updating my blog."

"Your…what?"

Magnus laughed, rubbing his knee. "Never mind." He sat up with his back against the couch, watching him. Alec stared back. The seconds passed and Alec sensed what was supposed to happen, so he initiated it before Magnus could.

He kissed the warlock. It was nothing near as intense as the previous kisses, which had turned into nuzzling and feverish petting, and what would probably be imprints of nails along his back, beneath the coarse sweater. He also had a strong suspicion there was another telltale mark on his neck. His face burned at the memory, and he broke from Magnus's mouth abruptly, ducking his head.

"Alec? What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You're blushing," Magnus pointed out the obvious, and Alec lifted his head to glare. "I thought we were beyond that point?"

"Me too," Alec agreed with a self-conscious smile.

"We've made a lot of progress for one night," Magnus mused, tapping the very spot with his fingertips. Alec flinched.

"I don't know how I'm going to explain it," he muttered under his breath.

"It'll go away before you know it. Unless you think it'll cause a problem?" he considered, regarding Alec more seriously. "Do you want me to-"

Alec cut him off before he could offer to heal him. "No, it's fine. Maybe no one will notice. It's not like they really look close at me anyway."

"Uh huh."

"What?"

"Nothing," Magnus replied, looking at him out of the corner of his eyes before shifting to lie back down on the couch, arms folded behind his head.

Alec frowned at him, but got up slowly, stretching out once he was standing. Then he looked around for his jacket.

"On the chair," Magnus provided, watching him lazily.

"Thanks." He reached for the rumpled jacket and shrugged into it. Absently, he fingered the side of his belt and his back pocket, checking for the small dagger and his stele. He could feel the light weight of his cell inside the breast of his coat. Everything accounted for.

"Not short a weapon?" Magnus inquired, amused.

"I'm good."

"Too bad," he sighed. "Then you would've had to come right back."

"I _will_ come back, Magnus," he promised, not sure if he was looking for reassurance. But it felt nice to give it - and to acknowledge that Magnus wanted him to return.

"Well, you'll have to keep your phone charged, because if you don't show up at my door soon, I'm going to start harassing your voice mail."

"Isn't that a little desperate?" he laughed.

Magnus shrugged, though smiling. "I would have said greedy."

Alec smiled back at him and turned to leave. He walked over to the front door, watching his feet, vision a little blurry. What time was it? It had to be late.

There was movement behind him, and then Magnus was at his side, arms snaking around him forcibly. "Wait a minute."

"Magnus..."

"I just want to give you something, OK? Just wait right here."

"All right," he agreed, watching the warlock over his shoulder. Magnus jogged to his bedroom. He heard the cat meowing for his attention. Clothing hangers scraped against metal. He cringed, hoping he wasn't trying to pass off another shirt. Or worse.

But when Magnus returned, he had one hand closed, offering it to him. Alec looked down at his hand and back up at his face. A small cold object was pressed into his palm.

"My key," Magnus pointed out, as if it needed explanation.

"Are you sure?"

"I have copies," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not sure where most of them went, but you'll probably keep up with this one better than I will."

When Alec didn't respond, Mangus kissed him quickly, gripping the back of his neck. "So you can come by whenever you want. And you can surprise me."

Alec slid the key inside his jacket, resting it against his cell. "Thanks."

Magnus smiled, not dissuaded by the underwhelming response. He nudged the shadowhunter's nose, nuzzling.

"I've got to go," Alec breathed against him, though his lashes had fallen. Magnus left tickling butterfly kisses across his cheeks, caressing the back of his neck.

"I know," he murmured, kissing him once more. Reluctant.

With some effort, he slid out of his warm embrace and turned, unlocking the door and stepping out into the stairwell.

He could feel Magnus's eyes silently watching him as he descended. He thought about turning back and tossing him a smile, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to see the expression on his face. So he drew his jacket closer before stepping out into the cooler evening air, the ridged end of the key poking against his chest.


End file.
